


Warped Emperor

by Cloud_storms_into_battle, Die_Kraehe_fliegt (Cloud_storms_into_battle)



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, M/M, Y'all ready for a lil' art history!?!?!, dark Kitagawa Yusuke, unrequited Kitagawa Yusuke / Persona 5 Protagonist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-12-20 23:31:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21065006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloud_storms_into_battle/pseuds/Cloud_storms_into_battle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloud_storms_into_battle/pseuds/Die_Kraehe_fliegt
Summary: Instead of choosing Goro Akechi as its champion, Yaldabaoth, the god of control, goes after a boy who's just as vulnerable. A young, isolated artist named Yusuke Kitagawa. With fate deeming Joker and Fox fated enemies, how will this game play out? Updates Sundays





	1. Prelude: Guernica

Akira and Goro stroll through the narrow museum hallway, following the high-profile artist, Yusuke Kitagawa, to some exclusive exhibit. Akira isn’t surprised to see the squad of armed security guards blockading one tiny steel door. According to Yusuke, they had built this room just to house that one item. The painting was that valuable, a foreign masterpiece due for display in a few weeks. Yusuke gives the guards a quick nod, and they allow him and his guests in.

“Never in my wildest dreams, did I think this piece would come to Japan, So when I was thinking of a place to get to know each other better, this exhibit came to mind.” Yusuke smoothly explains. He turns to regard his guests. “Well here it is,” Yusuke gives a polite bow to the canvas, as if he were introducing a person. “I’m eager to know what your impressions are.” Goro and Akira get a first look at it, eyes widening at the sheer size of it. They both stand still for a few minutes as Yusuke lets them get their bearings.

Goro stares, mouth agape in awe. "It's incredibly striking." He admits, as his eyes constantly dart back and forth across the massive canvas, unable to find a spot to rest on. "I can't decide what disturbs me more. The gored horse thrashing in pain, the civilians burning alive, or the grieving mother." The detective notes somberly.

Yusuke nods, humming along politely, tossing a few “Indeeds” or “Good eye!” at Goro’s painfully cliche comments. Being a celebrity artist has taught him how to stroke the egos of the artistically dim-witted. Goro Akechi was no different than those fools, smiling broadly at Yusuke’s praise, its artificial nature clearly going way over his head. With little effort Yusuke has already managed to ensnare the detective's interest.

_A passive observer… I suppose it must come from his detective work._ Yusuke notes mentally, as he forms a key conclusion about his adversary. _The good detective suffers from tunnel vision. He zeroes in on particularly suspicious things, but fails to grasp the bigger picture._The potential weakness is filed away, stored for his future plans.

_But I don't think the detective will prove too difficult to deceive._ Yusuke observes coldly, as Goro continues prattling on to Akira about his worthless ideas on the piece. Somehow the raven seems genuinely engaged in Goro’s thoughts, smiling contently. _I don’t know how he does it. _

Having gleaned useful information, Yusuke questions Goro’s companion next. “And you Akira? What do you make of it?” Yusuke gestures emphatically at the chaotic oil painting.

Akira's reaction to the painting can only be described as pure distrust. His eyebrows are raised skeptically, his lips set in a subtle frown. The painting doesn't seem to leave much of an impression. He shrugs haplessly, before muttering "It's foreboding... I guess."

“That’s it, Akira?” Goro elbows Akira in the ribs, teasing his close friend. Yusuke ignores the interjection, impressed by Akira’s seemingly lackluster response.

_Blunt honesty._ Yusuke easily sees pasts Akira’s nonchalant facade, and finds himself shocked by the refreshing take. Most first-time observers react like Goro did. Eagerly picking apart the little details, thinking they’ve come across some shocking revelation, that hundreds of professional art-historians somehow managed to miss. Akira however focuses on the overall impression. _He analyzes this massive chaotic, violent scene and says just one word: Foreboding._ Yusuke’s gaze hardens.

“What makes you say that?” Yusuke presses, eager to learn more about the thought process behind his future opponent.

Akira hums thoughtfully, twirling the fringe of his hair. “Well everything has a bigger picture, right? So we can look and point out the little violent details here and there, but the composition really says something to me.” Uneasiness forms in the pit of Yusuke’s stomach.

Yusuke can’t stop himself from thinking of the bigger picture of his life. _Of all the hardships I’ve endured, of all the lines I’ve crossed to get this far..._

_Of all the people I’ve ended to get to-_Yusuke mentally shouts, killing that invasive thought with sheer willpower alone.

_I cannot afford to second guess myself now._ Yusuke stands straight, a solemn resolve fortifies him. He puts his calm, serene face back on. _Not when I’m this close to my life’s purpose. _

Akira coughs awkwardly, before finishing his thought. “The painting’s violent for sure, but its arrangement suggests that it's only the beginning of something far worse.” Yusuke catches the way Akira subtly leers at him on the final word.

_He already doesn't trust me?_ Yusuke realizes, as he flashes a subtle smile. _Then it seems I've found a worthy opponent._ A fire lights in Yusuke’s gut, igniting his competitive spirit, doubtful thoughts completely extinguished.

“What a fascinating comment, Akira!” Yusuke injects just a touch of his trademark passion into his voice - the kind he reserves for interviews and television spots. “Picasso painted this to depict one of the first air-bombings of innocent civilians. It was just a few years before the outbreak of the Second World War.” Yusuke explains as Goro leans forward rapt with interest, listening intently. 

Akira leans against the wall, clearly not buying it, challenging expression aimed towards the artist, as if to ask _does it hurt being so fake all the time? What are you really trying to accomplish with this farce?_

“So I suppose you were correct… It is rather foreboding.” Yusuke's voice trails off, and he can't help smirking at Akira's boldness.

Yusuke gives Akira one final appraising look-over. "But I must say, I'm glad you've agreed to my little deal." He holds out his hand. "We'll catch the true culprit yet."

Akira has to struggle hard from retching at the word ‘deal’. "Yeah. I'm sure we will, Kitagawa." He accepts the pretentious artist's handshake, struggling to remember just how the Phantom Thieves landed themselves in such a precarious position.


	2. Fateful Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira's sent off to Tokyo on probation. During his transit he encounters some interesting people.

The dull, depressed eyes of a black-haired boy stare lifelessly at the mass of passengers in front of him. They each stand absorbed in their own devices, texting, reading, or staring ahead just as melancholic as Akira feels. An emptiness forms in the pit of his stomach, and he tries to push it down, but it proves too much to bear. A choked gasp escapes his mouth, and he clutches his backpack protectively like a stuffed animal. 

_Just a week ago, my parents finally realized how much of a burden I was… So they threw me away. _

He tries to hold the tears back, but a few drip down his face anyways. The train slowly comes to a stop, letting off some of its load, as a new mass of lifeless faces swarm in. Akira sighs recalling the events that led to his punishment, as the train starts to slowly pick up speed again. 

_I can’t say that I blame them. If I hadn’t seen it firsthand, I would think I was guilty too…_

* * *

It was a clear, peaceful night. Akira strolls quickly through the streets, headphones blaring at a quiet volume - just high enough to serve as some nice white noise. The perfect music to zone out to. His mind was adrift with upcoming school assignments and his father’s birthday. 

The sounds of a nearby clash knock Akira out of his trance. He quickly turns to the general direction, and spots two distinct figures struggling near a telephone booth. 

One is an older-looking, bearded, hunched man. He’s dressed in an expensive looking designer winter jacket and pants. He clutches onto some manila pamphlet as if his life depended on it. His face sends shivers down Akira’s spine. He bares his teeth, eyes glaring, snarling like a lion. 

The person he’s struggling with, a middle-aged woman, refuses to let go of the folder. She’s dressed in a casual outfit similar to Akira’s mom. He feels a natural bond with the stranger, and alarm bells go off in Akira's head as she whimpers in fear, resolutely standing her ground. 

“You little harlot!” The old man shrieks, high-pitched voice piercing Akira’s ears. “Give that back at once!” 

“No! I’m done with your bullshit! This is going public!” The woman shouts, shaking her head defiantly, as the battle of attrition goes on.

_I shouldn’t get involved… My parents would want me to stay safe._ Akira looks around for a police officer. His hope plummets. There’s no one else around. 

His gaze returns in a panic as he hears the next painful shriek. He’s greeted by a sight that upsets his stomach. 

The elder uses one hand to go for the folder, as the other yanks so viciously at the girl’s hair, that Akira almost thinks it’ll come right off. Tears flow freely from her eyes, as she pleads. “Someone! Anyone! Help!”

Akira’s mind runs in circles. He finds himself bogged down by the expectations of others. _My parents always told me to mind my own business. They said to think of my future… I should just go before I get myself in-_

***SMACK!***

Akira’s eyes widen as he witnesses the old man strike her swiftly in the side of the face. She cries in pain, but still resolutely grips the folder. His heart weeps for the abused woman. 

_You bastard!_ Akira’s fists clench in restrained fury at his side. He imagines the sheer depravity needed to pummel someone over a damn envelope. 

The pure unrighteousness triggers some deep, hidden, heroic side to Akira. He stops thinking. His mind goes on auto-pilot. He pulls out his cellphone and starts recording the scene, walking quietly towards the enraged man. By the time he’s within range, he’s caught plenty of evidence, and the old man’s none the wiser.

“You senile asshole. What’s your problem?!” Akira can hardly believe that this deep, menacing tone belongs to him. His eyes meet the abuser’s shocked gaze, before Akira makes a split second decision.

He shoves the cruel old bag away from the defenseless woman. 

The old man is sent flying. He crashes against the phone booth - cracking the glass, before sliding down onto his rear with an audible thud. The old man’s finally calmed down. Now that he’s been knocked unconscious.

_Serves you right… violent bastard!_ Akira thinks in disdain, as he turns to offer his hand to the poor distressed lady, who’s staring at the secured manila pamphlet like it’s a key to freedom. 

She accepts, and Akira pulls her to her feet. “Thanks, you really didn’t have to do that.” She whispers nervously, eyes darting around. A deep exhale before she clutches the pamphlet tightly to her chest. “Listen, you need to get out of here! Go now!” Her bruised face displays a deep worry.

Akira’s head tilts in bewilderment. _Didn’t I just knock the guy’s lights out? What’s she so worried about?_ Flashing lights and blaring sirens interrupt his thoughts. 

A police cruiser slowly pulls to the scene, and a fresh-faced officer steps out with a bored looking grimace. _Finally, some help’s arrived!_ Akira breathes a sigh of relief at the approaching man, only to watch in shock as he walks right past the bruised woman. Akira eyes widen, and his gut tells him something very bad is about to occur. 

“Finally, took you fools long enough!” The return of the unwelcoming, piercing, aged voice makes Akira wince. The old man scoffs in frustration, after being helped to his feet by the police officer. "Honestly what does our tax money even accomplish?" A death glare is thrown Akira’s way. “You filthy street-trash.” He slowly speaks, voice dripping with a smug pretentiousness. ”Your youth ends here.” Akira catches sight of a few ten-thousand yen notes being passed along to the officer. 

“W-wait! Please, I have video evidence!” Akira cries desperately, pointing to his cellphone as if this was all just a simple misunderstanding. Somehow the elder’s enraged face warps into an even more frightening one. It looks more like a cruel caricature than a genuine human expression. Akira has never felt so small before in his entire life.

He flaunts a few more ten-thousand notes, before bellowing an order. “Destroy the phone, and retrieve my stolen goods!” He points a wrinkled finger towards the manila folder. The woman’s eyes zone out like a deer in headlights, and she drops to her knees in shock. 

Akira’s positive his expression matches the lady’s. He’s never sympathized with another person so much in his entire life. His short-lived adrenaline-filled fight or flight instinct is overtaken by a primal desire to freeze. All he can do is stare helplessly as three distinct sounds are heard. 

First is the sickening crunch of his cellphone beneath the corrupt officer’s boot. The cop lifts his boot, revealing a mass of crunched plastic and cracked glass, then he brings his heel down one final time for good measure. Akira's optimistic hope dies alongside his cellphone. 

Next he hears another high-pitched cry. The lady wails out of desperation as she’s finally forced to relinquish the precious envelope. It gets placed in the smug arms of the older man, who stares cruelly at the devastated woman.

Finally Akira hears the metallic clink of handcuffs being secured around his shaking wrists. He flexes his wrists back and forth, instinctively testing their limits. A cruel cackling tone sounds.

“Don’t show any mercy! Throw the book at him!” The decrepit man orders the police officer, who nods along submissively. Akira can only let out a pathetic whimper as he’s loaded into the back of the police car. 

_Is this what I get for doing the right thing?_ Akira wonders helplessly, staring at the car floor as he feels his freedoms and happiness being stripped away from him.

* * *

"Akihabara! Please stand clear of the doors!" The mechanical voice of the conductor blares out, waking Akira up from his flashback. Akira glances back at his info brochure, realizing there's still quite a ways to go before his destination. He sighs with a melancholic boredom, fingers tapping his leg restlessly.

The passengers entering and exiting are all so dull. They blur together forming a singular, depressing mass. He's already starting to grow sick of the big city, so he resorts to hugging his knees, sulking sadly.

Akira doesn't have a good book and he isn't in the mood for awkward small talk with strangers so he falls back to flipping through his cellphone. It's a small, cheap, dingy little thing with a keypad: the final gift from his loving, doting parents, before they lovingly kicked him out on his rear.

_I wonder where they even bought this relic from?_Akira gets the feeling his parents looked for the cheapest possible solution to the judge's insistence that they at least keep contact with their delinquent of a son. _Jeez, I don't even think it can surf the web or download apps..._

A red ominous eyeball flashes on his phone for the briefest moment. Akira sighs in annoyance, before deleting it. _Probably just a virus or some malware._

Akira catches an interesting sight in his peripheral vision. A thin, tall, lanky boy with shoulder-length, deep-blue hair stands in the rear of the car. He refuses to grab the guard rail, despite the rather bumpy nature of the ride. _He's kind of silly looking, trying to keep his balance, so whatever he's writing in that book is probably important._ Akira knows it's rude, but he starts to stare. The tall boy really stands out among the sad mass of salary men and students.

The blue-haired boy glances up momentarily, then looks backs towards his notebook- furiously scribbling something. Akira watches out of the side of his eye with unabashed curiosity as the boy continues the strange pattern of action, looking up at the world, then recording in his notebook, for several minutes. He seems to be fixated with looking at just one area of the train.

_I wonder what he's writing in that journal..._

The boy has been looking at Akira's general direction for a while now, and once Akira realizes, the black-haired boy jolts in shock. He tries to act natural, and stays still subtly observing the boy with the notebook. The taller boy either doesn't notice he's been spotted, or he simply doesn't care. He just keeps glancing at Akira's section, before writing meticulously in his notebook.

There really isn't anything else to do during this boring, cramped transit , so Akira's curiosity quickly gets the better of him. He leaves his seat, determined to reach the boy, and eager to get to know the interesting guy.

As he's walking through the congested car, careful not to trample anyone's belongings or shoes, Akira can just barely make out the faint ripping of a piece of paper. Suddenly the tall boy makes direct eye contact, and Akira stops in a panic.

_I hope he hasn't noticed my staring..._

Akira's not sure what he's expecting to see as a reaction from the boy. A polite wave, or greeting would be ideal. He won't get his hopes up though. He knows a scoff, silent dismissal, or maybe even a rude roll of the eyes is far more likely. After all, it seems the strangers in Tokyo could instinctively recognize that Akira is a convicted criminal: someone to be avoided, derided, or ignored. Akira braces himself for the worst. The serene, peaceful and subtle smile is not expected though, and it sends a confused happiness through Akira.

Akira can't help the casual smile that appears. This guy is probably the first person to show Akira even a little bit of basic human decency since he's arrived in the big city. He waves at the blue-haired boy.

The boy nods back in response, before silently gesturing for Akira to look at something. He smiles as he pulls out a piece of paper, and hands it to Akira. The black-haired boy's eyes widen in shock once recognition dawns. 

_Has he been drawing me?!_

It's a long wide sketch of the entire train's interior. The dull masses of passengers are captured to a tee, and Akira's breath hitches as he finally spots himself. He's clearly the focal point of the piece. Much more time and effort was placed on him, and it certainly paid off. Whereas the other passengers are perfect, dull, lifelike studies, still masterfully done in black and white, Akira's likeness is captured with colorful, energetic strokes that make him leap off the paper. The drawing shows a sad lamenting in his eyes, but his mouth displays a powerful, willful resolve. His hand holds his phone to the side, screen illuminated with a strong red glow. The artist had caught him while he was thinking deeply about the past. 

Ever since his parents dumped him, he'd been struggling with his self-worth. This encounter with the artist sends an optimistic surge through him. _If this stranger can see some underlying beauty in me, maybe I should try to be a little more optimistic._

He looks up, wanting to introduce himself, but unfortunately the boy is gone. Akira was so transfixed in the drawing, that he hadn't even noticed the tall boy silently walk away. 

_Oh well, at least I get to keep the drawing._

He cautiously places the sketch in a folder in his backpack. He definitely didn't want the memento getting ruined. 

_Maybe Tokyo wouldn't be so bad. _

* * *

The rest of the transit passes by in a blur, and eventually he finds himself in the neighborhood of his new caretaker. He's almost home free, ready to plop down in his new bed and pass out, but unfortunately the neighborhood proves to be an embarrassing ordeal. 

_Seriously, who the hell designed this place?!_ He storms through the alleys angrily, but he's positive he saw that thrift store before._I'm exhausted! And now I can't even find my caretaker's cafe._

His ranting absorbs him so much that he doesn't notice the person blocking him until his face meets the back of the guy's head. Fast and Hard.

Akira recoils in pain and clutches his probably bruised face.

_God... Could this day get any worse!?___

He glances at the unfortunate guy he just head-butted, and what he sees terrifies him. 

His face had thwacked a young man about his age. Despite the gloved hand rubbing soothing circles across his pain-stricken head, Akira can make out a short, neat, chestnut-brown undercut. But the clothes he's decked in are what worries Akira most. The light blue undershirt, covered by a navy protective vest with a walkie-talkie can only mean one thing. 

_ _A damn police officer._ _

__

Akira had just recently had his first brush with the Japanese law system. A brush that left him exiled from his hometown with a prior record and a strict probation. 

And now he went and pissed off another police officer. Like poking a sleeping bear with a stick. He cries silently, as he realizes he's just violated his probation. The police officer is going to shout at him, learn about his prior conviction, and take him down town. 

Instead the cop's maroon eyes throw him a curve ball. A thoughtful, concerned gaze where Akira was expecting an enraged, seething one. 

"I have to admit, I wish my close combat skills were as good as yours." The brunette's light voice chuckles quietly, breaking the ice as he bends over to retrieve his knocked-off hat. Akira remembers the police officer who that old bag bribed and is glad to see that the brunette gives off a completely different vibe. 

Akira finds himself smiling along. Was the cop teasing him? "Well I'm just a diversion. As we speak, my ragtag crew of thieves is assaulting Cafe Leblanc..."

The officer actually snorts at that. "You'd better not. If you get between me and my coffee, I'll throw you in the slammer."

Akira rolls his eyes sarcastically, before squinting, trying to find the officer's name tag.

"I'd like a plea bargain, Officer Akechi." Akira jokes, barely able to contain his laughter.

The officer shakes his head in exaggerated disbelief. "All joking aside... are you okay?" Akechi looks at Akira with concern, before hastily adding, "I couldn't help but notice your wandering. You realize you've been going in circles for the past hour, right?"

Akira blushes, despite being touched by Akechi's genuine concern. "Yeah... this is kinda my first time here. I'm looking for Cafe Leblanc."

Akechi nods happily. "I know that place. I go there all the time for my coffee breaks." He gestures for Akira to follow. "I'll take you there."

Hesitation grips Akira, but he eventually gives in. After all his sense of direction really is horrific. He walks alongside the police officer, and he can't help but feel embarrassed. The judging looks of passerby make him feel like a puppy following its owner. The officer quickly notices Akira's discomfort, and so he starts engaging him in conversation. The black haired boy sighs, feeling that the officer is just showing him pity. Despite his discomfort around cops, Akira tries to be polite and reciprocate.

"So... I don't mean to sound rude, but you look pretty young for a police officer." Akira's only telling the truth. They're about the same height, and Akechi actually looks a little younger than him. 

Regret fills Akira almost immediately. He can actually sense the insecurity in Akechi's reaction. "Well, I wouldn't exactly call myself a full fledged officer." The boy smiles bashfully, as he rubs the back of his neck. "I'm more of a rookie detective. An intern really. They're training me to patrol this street's beat though." The idle chitchat continues and Akira finds himself growing to enjoy Akechi's company. His honest demeanour and genuine concern convince Akira to open up a little. He explains how his parents had sent him away to stay with one of their distant friends. He leaves out the whole assault charge though, after all he was working for the police.

Akechi's smile drops in sympathy at the new information, "I know how that feels. My father didn't really want anything to do with me either..." 

Akira nods at that, about to offer the officer an ear, the guy had helped him find Leblanc after all.

A voice sounds on the walkie-talkie, interrupting Akira's offer, and Akechi panics as he quickly stammers out a response.

"Yes, Prosecutor Nijima? I'm needed at the station? Copy that! I'll be there ASAP!"

"I'm sorry, I've gotta go." Akechi mutters a little sadly, disappointment evident in his eyes. "I hope you get used to the city soon."

The officer turns to jog away, but Akira cries out before he can get too far. 

"Wait!"

Akechi stops dead in his tracks. "Yes?"

"My name's Akira Kurusu." Akechi mouths along silently, committing the name to memory. Akira admits earnestly. "It's kinda embarrassing, but I don't think I would've found that cafe on my own... So thanks."

"Don't mention it, Akira!" Akechi does a dorky, passionate salute, that almost makes Akira giggle. "Helping people is a part of my job after all."

_His sense of duty is honestly kind of adorable._

Akira watches Akechi slowly jog away, feeling just a little bit of sadness at being alone again. 

He checks the hours on the front of Leblanc's doors and sighs in defeat. The place doesn't open for another two hours. He plops himself down on the cafe's porch and tries to find a way to pass the time. His hands dig through his backpack, pulling the sketch from earlier out.

He stares at the drawing, still amazed by how the artist drew him. In the corner of the drawing a previously uncaught detail catches his attention.

A signature.

_Y. Kitagawa, huh?_

Beneath the signature is a short, brief message. 

'_You seem quite troubled._  
_Remember that life consists of both ugliness and beauty._  
_As an artist I seek to find the beauty in this dark world._  
_So, thank you._ '

The note makes Akira's breath hitch in embarrassment, cheeks glowing a gentle red.

Despite not exchanging any words, Akira can safely say their silent encounter left quite an impact on him. That note makes Akira even more curious about Kitagawa. He only knows his name. 

He thinks of how Kitagawa strives to find beauty in everyday life, so he tries to take a page from the artist's book and just observes his surroundings, picking out the small moments of beauty: a dog chasing its own tail, a lady buying her ecstatic kid a treat, or the police officer from earlier.

The peaceful observing makes Akira somewhat happier.

_Maybe life isn't so bad after all... thanks Kitagawa._

Akira really wants their paths to cross again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phantom thievery starts next chapter. Just a heads up this fic won't be a novelization of the entire game. It will fly through scenes that aren't different because of Goro or Yusuke's swapped roles. This fic will be updating Sunday's

**Author's Note:**

> I’m really excited for this idea! This is an alternate universe where akechi and yusuke switch roles. Not every chapter will be centered around a piece of art, but i’ll do it occasionally. Might even decide to illustrate it.


End file.
